Lifetimes
by Lara1221
Summary: Second Place! It's been fifty years since Voldemort has fallen, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione wander through the halls of Hogwarts as they have done so many times before. But if there had never been a Voldemort... the thought occurs to all three of them, and none know what to say.


**Disclaimer: **Harry, Ron, and Hermione belong to JK Rowling, as does Hogwarts, and the entire wizarding world; I just own the plot of this story. I don't own the picture on the cover or the poetry quote, either.

**Dedication: **To my closest friends. I love you guys.

* * *

_I believe in possibility. _- Emily Dickinson

* * *

Lifetimes

Laughter filled the halls of Hogwarts as Ron stumbled around the corner, Harry and Hermione by his side. They were nearing seventy now, and yet, Ron reflected, he had never felt so young. These years, with his family, together; they were timeless.

"We haven't had an adventure in a while, huh? We can't get _boring_," Ron said, and Harry grinned.

"Merlin, all those nights we spent, lurking around the castle. Remember?" as he said it, Harry pulled the invisibility cloak out of his pocket, playfully hiding under it, giving Ron a whirlwind of memories: lurking about the library at night, brewing polyjuice potion, exploring secret passageways because it made he and Harry feel rebellious and teenage, the DA.  
Hiding from Voldemort.  
It was all over now. They were _free_.

Harry gave one end to Ron, as Hermione stood between them while they wrapped the cloak around their shoulders. They walked slowly through the halls together, Ron having no idea where they were going. They just stepped together, quietly roaming the Halls as they had done so many times before. It was just like old times, really: Ginny was with the family, and the other Gryffindors all still on the large expanse of the memorial field. It was almost as if no time had passed at all, as if the fifty years since the Battle hadn't changed anything.

And yet everything had.

"This is my _home,_" said Harry suddenly, breaking the silence. "You guys, you guys are my home. Hogwarts-"

"Never tickle a sleeping dragon," Ron cut in.

"You're practically the same thing, with those snores of your's," Hermione retorted.

Ron scoffed disbelievingly. "Oi, I've gotten bet-"

"Hogwarts gave me you guys," Harry said loudly, clearing his throat. His friends smiled sheepishly. "I have no _idea_ where I would be without this school. Do you?"

"Not a clue," said Hermione honestly.

* * *

Harry continued to walk alongside his friends, the comfortable silence reminding him why they were such good friends: silent conversations, thoughts given through subtle actions. It made him feel sentimental, and Ron would surely laugh at him if he voiced the thought.

His eyes never left the floor, and not until he felt an abrupt stop and a tug on his hand did he look up. He took in the sight before him, and his heart swelled, butterflies racing in his stomach for reasons he did not know. Headmistress Tremaine had comissioned the painting with his permission, after all. She thought it was important for those to remember than even the most evil of men are human, and Harry had no arguents there. He was a human, just as the others who died. A flawed, terrible human being in capable of love; but his death was so humanistic, as he had tried so hard not to be.

No one deserved a fate worse than death; Harry knew that more than anyone.

The Hogwarts painting depicted Tom Riddle's lifeless body, on the day that Harry had defeated him fifty years ago. Roxanne had painted it, and though she was not there, it was as if she was.

Voldemort lay dead on the ground, in that moment of silence before Harry's friends had surged onto the battleground. In the quest for an elegant life, in thriving to be more special, Riddle had died as any other man.

His niece's elegant strokes traversed the canvas, the Muggle paint a larger symbol than anything: he would not be immortal.

The scene captured his pale, cold skin, resting on the hard bricks of the castle floor. Harry's home, the one he had defended. He was wandless, limp and set in the scale of the day, additions stripped away to the raw emotion of the day: sunlight was just over the horizon, he remembered, and a hint of light shone over Riddle's glassy stare, and dry patches of red blood seemed from a wound on his head.

Roxanne had titled the painting _Love thy Death._

"What...what do you think he would say?" Ron asked suddenly, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Probably that he wished he could take it all back," Hermione whispered, always the first to respond.

This took Harry by surprise. "You really think so?"

"No one wants to die like this, Harry," she said quietly. "He...he might not tell us," she gulped, "but dying, standing up for a horrible cause is a tragedy. He might pretend as if his death was valiant, or brave; but it was nothing, he was nothing. He'd stand by that lie, though. I swear."

Harry had nothing to say to that, so he continued in silence.

Again, Ron spoke up. "What...what if he had? What if he could take it all back?"

Harry and Hermione stared blankly at him.

"If there was never a Tom Riddle."

"I'd have my parents," said Harry immediately. "So would Teddy. And Fred..."

"But there wouldn't be an us, would there?" asked Ron right back, seemingly unphased by the mention of his brother. "We wouldn't be together, like this."

"Do you think it's worth it?" asked Hermione.

And this, Harry responded to immediately as well. "We can't go back. We can't spend time wondering. There _was_ a Riddle, and he killed lots of innnocent people. But we _defeated _him, guys. He's _gone_, not coming back. And we're not going back, and I sure as hell don't want to."

Hermione reached over to hug him, and Ron clapped a hand on his back.

* * *

Leaning her head on Ron's shoulder, Hermione reached to the right and grasped Harry's hand in her own. She looped one arm through Ron's and kept Harry's hand firmly in her other, before nudging them both slightly to walk with her, leaving the portrait behind. It was no longer instantaneous; it seemed they were finally aging.

It had been fifty years ago today when Harry had defeated Voldemort. Every moment leading to today seemed singular, alone in its entirety, each one more special than the last. Time had been kind. As witches and wizards, Hermione and her friends and many years to go; but since that day, the day that Harry saved the world as everyone knew it, time passed gracefully.

And today, it all seemed to catch up to her. Her last fifty years had been spent in the company of her closest friends, the people she truly loved; her family. To Hermione, it was not fifty years, it was a set of infinite moments, each adding to the person she was today. She was no hero. She was a wife, a mother, an aunt; a best friend. The relationship that she, Harry, and Ron had built together goes beyond those of personal relationships; it was so much _more_ than that.

"I love you guys," she breathed suddenly, gripping Ron and Harry's hands tighter. She turned to kiss Ron, and then Harry leaned into her, holding her close as she broke from Ron and hugged him tight, pressing her face into his shoulder as she blinked away tears.

Harry laughed quietly, and Hermione looked up in surprise to see his eyes shining as well. She felt a hand on her back, and looked to see Ron grinning brightly, but she knew him too well: there were tears in the corner of his eyes.

"Look at us," Harry said, giving a shaky laugh, "when did we get so sentimental? Does that come with old age?"

"I am _not_ old, Harry Potter," Hermione scolded, laughing too.

"We're nutters," said Ron. "I'm going mental, really. Crying, honestly," but he gripped them both in a hug, and it was like they were back in first year.

* * *

Harry was the first to pull away, wiping tears from his eyes before putting his glasses back on, a glint in his eyes suddenly appearing, as he set his jaw.

"Riddle or no Riddle. Friends," he breathed. "Together. He wouldn't change that," here, he reached out to hold Hermione's hand again, and she squeezed it. "I wouldn't let him."

Harry smiled, and his friends returned it. Possibilities cast aside, they fell into a comfortable silence; another elegant, infinite moment.

* * *

**A/N: **I really like how this turned out, so it would mean a lot to me if you left me a review or some concrit! Each of the trio got their moments, and just a bit of side info: in my hc, Roxanne becomes a painter. And if you really liked it, could you maybe check out my other work? Written for:

**Hunger Games Comp: Bloodbath: **prompts- hiding, personal, elegance; **Hogwarts Painting Comp: Hard: **Voldemort, prompts- snoring, love thy death, dragon; **Star Challenge: Canopus: **include the invisibility cloak; **Winter Games Challenge: Cross-Country Skiing: sprint: **write about the golden trio; **Poetry Quotes Challenge: **use the quote at the top; **Chapter Acrostics Comp: Chp. 3:** **L:** action prompt: laughing; **Off the Block Comp: Hard Butterfly: **write about the first Harry Potter person you've ever written (Harry); **Star Light, Bright Challenge: Star: **write about a deceased character; **Cinema Comp: The Breakfast Club: **write about friendship; **Fanfiction Terms comp: forum: **write about friendship; **Gemstone comp: sapphire: **write about Hermione; **Horoscope Challenge: **your friends are closing in on you, in a good way. Expect good support from those who know you best.

Hope you liked it, please let me know if you did! Also, I'm taking a poll about author's notes, so if you could check that out, that would be great :)

Lara,


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